


the very last king

by idaate



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Spoilers will be tagged when they come up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-02-02 23:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12736293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idaate/pseuds/idaate
Summary: ♔ "It's no fun to go in order," says Ouma, and he pushes against the phonograph. The needle hops and skips across the record.Fifty fragments of Saihara and Ouma's relationship.





	1. i. chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be doing a challenge for the next fifty days; I'll be posting a short saiouma drabble based off of a different prompt each day into this collection. Hopefully, it goes well!
> 
> Most chapters are spoiler free, but if they aren't, there will be a warning beforehand.
> 
> In addition, I figured I'd advertise my v3 ao3 server once again since I haven't since the game released in English! It's a server for people in the v3 ao3 community, whether they be writers or readers. If this link is still here, it means that it's still open! https://discord.gg/yGNZcVb

_i. chocolate_

The piece sits neatly in Ouma’s hand, a dark strawberry colored drop on his pale pale skin. If Saihara squints slightly enough that water gathers in his eyes but not enough for his vision to sharpen, it looks like a drop of blood in snow.

“Jeez, it's not poisoned or anything,” Ouma cuts in when Saihara doesn't pick it up immediately. “If I was trying to poison you, I wouldn't be this obvious about it. I’d slip it into some ingredients by injecting it through the wrapper so that you _think_ that the food is all safe and stuff, but then you take a bite of your sandwich and--” Ouma uses his free hand to strangle himself, making various choking noises before blinking up innocently at Saihara. “See?”

“Thanks,” Saihara says tiredly, “good to know I have even more reason to feel fear in my daily life.”

“You're dating _me,_ Saihara-chan!” Ouma scoffs, and Saihara feels his cheeks heat up. “That's reason enough for fear! Do you know how many mafias and governments and stuff are out to get me? They're dirty enough to use any sort of underhanded techniques to try and get to me, and that includes harming the person I’m dating!”

Saihara elects to ignore Ouma’s ramblings for now, and picks up the chocolate instead. “No worries, though,” Ouma adds, “because I’m going to protect Saihara-chan, no matter what! I’m super strong, after all!” He lifts up an arm, flexing, and kisses his sleeve.

“Thank you, Ouma-kun,” Saihara repeats, with more sincerity behind the words this time. “I really appreciate the gesture.”

“As you rightly should!” Ouma huffs, and then motions at the chocolate that now sits on Saihara’s palm. “Anyways, I spent a lot of time figuring out the perfect chocolate concoction for my perfect boyfriend, so you better slurp up that chocolate right up and appreciate it a whole lot!”

“I will,” Saihara smiles affectionately, and places the chocolate on his tongue.

It's not bad, not at first. The thin layer of chocolate drizzle on the top is just the right amount of sweet, and Saihara nods at Ouma, who beams.

But then that melts away in his mouth, and Saihara’s lips pucker up at the most unholy combination of salty and sour. There's too much of both, and even though he exerts every amount of self control that he finds in himself, he still ends up coughing violently and cupping a hand over his mouth to keep himself from spitting out the chocolate.

Ouma stares at him, expressionless. “That bad, huh?”

“No!” Saihara chokes out around the chocolate, and forces himself to swallow the rest down his throat without tasting it. “N-no, it’s-- it's, it’s got an interesting flavor.”

“Saihara-chan, everyone knows that's codename for ‘completely and totally and most definitely awful’ when it comes to compliments,” Ouma scoffs and looks at the small box set behind him. “Well, time to throw out the entire batch.”

“But,” Saihara fumbles with his words, “didn't you spend… a long time on it?”

“Yeah, but it’s whatever.” Ouma waves a dismissive hand. “Anyway… since Saihara-chan feels bad that my own chocolates are bad, he can make some chocolates with me instead!”

“Wh-- _Ouma-kun--”_

Ouma places a finger on Saihara’s lips before leaning in and giving him a big smooch. “Love you!” he singsongs, and Saihara sighs and accepts the fact that any other plans that he had had for the afternoon were as good as cancelled.


	2. ii. in the snow

_ii. in the snow_

Saihara yelps as the snow is poured down the back of his jacket, sliding past his binder and bleeding down his clothes. “O-Ouma-kun,” he says, shuddering violently, “that wasn't nice…”

“You’re not nice!” says Ouma, hopping into his line of vision. “But… that’s a lie! Saihara-chan is one of the nicest people ever! Or maybe that's a lie and Saihara-chan is super duper cruel and mean and was the type of kid to rip his dolls’ heads off?” He taps his chin and whistles. “Hm… I wonder!”

Saihara sighs and leans over, messily balling up some snow and tossing it in Ouma’s direction. It misses, of course, Ouma hopping from one foot to the next as he avoids the spray and giggles wildly.

“Saihara-chan certainly isn't the Super High-School Level Snowball thr-- _ack!”_

He’s cut off as Saihara lands a second and slightly better put together snowball directly in his face, sputtering indignantly and wiping his gloves up and down his face in an attempt to remove the snow. Despite himself, Saihara laughs, and Ouma begins to stomp his foot on the ground, sending up small puffs of snow.

“Saihara-chan is a bully! This is harassment!” he wails, snot dripping down from his nose. “Abuse, actually! Child abuse! I could report you to the authorities!”

“Alright, sorry, Ouma-kun,” Saihara finally says, calming himself down. “I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you alright?”

“No! No I’m not alright!” Ouma throws his hands into the air, pouting. “I trusted Saihara-chan-- I really did, I really did! And then he went and wounded me like this! I’ve never gone through such intense trauma in my life. I don't think I’ll ever be able to recover!”

“Oh,” says Saihara softly. “I’m sorry.”

Ouma pauses, and his expression grows more serious as his hands fall at his sides. “Hey, Saihara-chan, that was just a jo--”

“I hope you’ll be able to recover from _this!”_

Saihara barrels forwards, ramming into Ouma and causing the both of them to land in snow, Saihara on top of the smaller boy. Ouma doesn't respond immediately, and for that moment, Saihara’s afraid that he might have seriously hurt him. “Ouma-kun, are you alr--”

“Wow!” Ouma giggles. “Didn’t see that one coming!”

He wraps his arms around Saihara’s neck and pulls him in, kissing him on the nose. His lips are cold, and Saihara shivers under the touch, but doesn't pull away. “I love you,” Saihara whispers, and winces as Ouma tenses up from underneath him.

“I love you too,” Ouma whispers back, and kicks him off.


	3. iii. rhythm

_iii. rhythm (game)_

“I hate Hoshizora Rin,” says Ouma.

Saihara sighs. “No, you don't…”

“I do,” Ouma insists. “I hate her and her stupid cards and her stupid cat face and her stupid cats and her stupid way that she says nya and _ugh!”_ He tosses his hands up in the air and throws his head against the sofa’s armrest. “I _hate_ her!”

“You're just mad because you got a bad gatcha pull.” Saihara turns a page in his book. “Sucks to suck.”

“That’s what I say!” Ouma flips over onto his stomach and pouts in Saihara’s direction. “You can't steal my lines! It sounds totally wrong coming out of your mouth!”

“Well, sucks to suck,” Saihara repeats. Ouma whines, and Saihara turns around, mouth pressed in a thin line. “If you're going to make such a big fuss about it, then I can full combo something for you. I’m pretty good at this game, after all.”

“What?” Ouma’s hair spins in the air as he turns towards his boyfriend. “No way. I’m the Super High-School Level Rhythm Gamer, practically. You’re nothing compared to my tap tap tap skills. No matter how much you tap, you’ll never be able to keep up with my tapping.”

“Oh, really?” Saihara prys the phone out of Ouma’s hand, much to the smaller boy’s displeasure. He quickly swipes through the available song list on expert, settling on a song that Ouma’s yet to play (or at the very least, clear) yet: Anemone Heart. It's not particularly hard, and he selects the song, a small jingle playing as the game begins to load it.

Ouma wiggles over and places his chin on Saihara’s shoulder, his breath brushing over Saihara’s ear. “I can’t wait t’see ya fail,” he mutters, and Saihara chuckles nervously, already feeling his fingers tense up in irrational fear and embarrassment.

The notes float down the screen, and he taps them more on instinct than on anything else. He's doing pretty great too, actually, but then Ouma licks his ear and he lets out a yelp, breaking his combo just as the song is about to end. “Ouma-kun!” He turns around, frowning. “What was that for?”

“What was what for?” Ouma plucks the phone out of Saihara's grasp and begins to tap tap away at his own pace. “I was just claiming my own right. I was doing what needed to be done.”

Saihara sighs and ruffles Ouma’s hair, and he giggles, curling into the touch.


	4. iv. irresistible

_iv. irresistible_

Saihara withdraws from the kiss, looking far too collected for Ouma’s expectations and, by extension, his liking.

“Well,” he says without skipping a beat, “how'd you like that?”

Ouma stares at him, and Saihara repeats, “How’d you like that? A-are you, ah,” he stutters and begins smoothing his hair back, that's more up to what Ouma had been hoping for, “doing alright? I didn't do too badly, did I?”

“Peh- _shaw_ ,” Ouma recollects himself and skips backwards, waving a stray hand in Saihara's direction. “It was alright, I guess. For Saihara-chan, which really isn't saying much of anything.”

Saihara fumbles with the bottom of his jacket nervously. “W-well,” he says, “you know, I…just kind of saw how much you wanted to, ah.” He cuts himself off and falls silent.

“Wanted to what, Saihara-chan?” Ouma says, mouth pressed into a thin line. “What did I want to do? Pray tell, because I’m dying to know. Really, I am.”

Saihara stares through him and says “I just thought that, maybe, you wanted kiss or something. You seemed like you wanted to...yeah. Like you were trying to resist something.”

Ouma stares at him and then coughs out a harsh bark of laughter. “Oh, _jeez_ , Saihara-chan.” He sticks his tongue out. “Don't give yourself so much credit, maaan! I had such high hopes for our detective here...seems you can't figure out much of anything at all! As if I’d seriously fall in love,” he scoffs again. “Saihara-chan, you're my beloved and all, but you have to know where I begin and end.”

Saihara stares at his hands, very quiet. “Sorry for making assumptions,” he says, and walks out of the room.

Ouma bites his fingernail and wonders exactly why he let himself get into this situation.


	5. v. hold my hand

_ v. hold my hand _

Absentmindedly, Saihara’s hand latches around Ouma’s on top of their covers, and the smaller boy freezes. Saihara doesn’t seem to notice, diligently typing up notes that he had taken earlier that day and humming something tuneless to himself. Ouma looks between Saihara’s face and then at their hands and then back up again, swallowing nervously.

“Hey, Saihara-chan,” he says after a few moments when Saihara doesn’t even glance over at him - what kind of nerve does he have, holding hands with a  _ super evil supreme leader  _ \- “whatcha up to?”

Saihara looks over at him at that, and to Ouma’s utter frustration, he isn’t blushing whatsoever. . “I’m typing up some notes from my Modern Japanese History lecture this morning,” he says, a clear cut answer. “Why? Is something up?”

“Well,” says Ouma,  _ “some _ pony is reaaally confident if he thinks that he can just grab my hand like that! I’ve had people executed for lesser things, you know!”

“A-ah,” Saihara withdraws his hand like he’s been burned, and as uncomfortable as Ouma had felt beforehand, he regrets saying anything at all. “Sorry, Ouma-kun. I just thought it would...ah.” He pulls his hand back to his laptop so he can type with two hands. “I read a short story online about couples holding hands, s-so...I apologize. I shouldn’t have done anything.”

“Oh jeez, I never took Saihara-chan for a romantic!” Ouma hums, and Saihara’s face reddens as he continues to look at the computer screen. Ouma curses himself.

After a few more silent moments pass behind them, Ouma adds, “But I won’t execute Saihara-chan if he wants to hold my hand.”

Saihara looks over at him once again. “...is that so?”

“It sure is,” Ouma says, and reaches over to grab Saihara’s hand. This time,  _ Saihara’s  _ the one tensing up underneath his grasp, but he relaxes after a few moments and continues to type away.

Ouma falls asleep to the feeling of Saihara’s blood pumping through his fingers and wonders what great deed he did in another life to deserve this.


	6. vi. tongue-tied

_vi. tongue-tied_

Saihara's not a talented speaker. He's got anxiety, and even if he didn't, he doesn't think his way with words is the best. Words are hard, for one thing, and he finds himself trying to express way too much with too little, frustrated by the extents of language, or, rather, his ability to reach those extents.

Momota pats him on the back and assures him that he's given the most compelling speeches that the astronaut has ever heard. Saihara disagrees, but nods along anyway.

But even if he's not talented at speaking, he can speak. That's something that he can do. Normally, he’s not mute.

But normally, he isn't around Ouma Kokichi, and that's when Saihara swallows his tongue altogether.


End file.
